


The Pineapple Warehouse

by Cottontail



Category: Hawaii Five-O (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottontail/pseuds/Cottontail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a gunfight in a warehouse Danny has a few realizations about Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pineapple Warehouse

Ten minutes passed like an eternity when death could be around any corner. Especially with an old knee injury flaring up from all the crouching and low crawling they’d been doing along the cold concrete floor and maze of crates. Danny winced quietly as he rubbed his knee with a free hand and held his weapon firmly at the ready in the other.

“Can you see them?” Steve whispered, pressing his lips to Danny’s ear in an effort to remain as silent as possible and not give their location away.

In any other situation he would have had to fight down his reaction to the scrape of stubble and warm breath against his skin, but that wasn’t an issue when there were at least five foreign mercenaries scattered around with fully-automatic weapons aimed somewhere in their general direction.

Danny scanned the small line of sight he had available to him for movement. The air was thick with gun smoke and dust, mixed with a subtle hint of pineapples. Of all the warehouses in Hawaii, they had to end up in this fucking one. He already had issues with pineapples, but never again would he look at a one the same way.

“There’s two on the right, just behind that lift truck thing-a-ma-jig,” he whispered, nodding his head in the general direction he spoke of.

Steve gave him the patented blank, commando-killer gaze, and Danny just _knew_ he was dying to make a crack about the word choice of “thing-a-ma-jig”.

Silently, Danny mouthed his next words. “Fuck you.”

In return he received the barest glimmer of amusement in Steve’s eyes as he loaded a fresh magazine in his weapon.

Blood was trickling down the side of Steve’s face from a blow to his head earlier in the fight; just before they’d lost their outside radio contact with Chin and Kono. Danny wondered if it was hurting him much or if he was oblivious to it; too focused on the battle at hand.

The brief reprieve of silence ended when a cascade of bullets lodged firmly into the crate just feet from them, causing Danny to jump. Steve put a hand on his shoulder then withdrew it. Pineapple juice puddle in a river along the bottom of the crate and slowly crawled towards them along the concrete floor. Danny crouched lower, his knee screaming in protest.

Steve leaned across him and shot off a few rounds in some random direction, the shots echoed around the cavernous ceiling of the warehouse.

“That’s good. I think you’re making a real dent in them,” Danny muttered.

Steve gave a sigh and leaned back beside him, against the crate. “What do you think they’re using? H&K MP5’s? UZI’s maybe?”

Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You know, for a Navy SEAL you sure suck at weapon classification. Obviously they’re Beretta M12s,” Danny corrected.

Steve stared at him. “Danny,” he whispered in an ardent tone, “those are _not_ Berettas. Do you know how hard it is to get those on the market these days?”

“Well,” Danny retorted, trying to keep his voice as quiet as Steve’s, “how often have you checked the market lately? I’m telling you, I know guns and those aren’t UZI’s, and they’re definitely not H&K’s of any type.”

“You think I can’t classify an H&K when I hear one? I’m a SEAL.”

Steve leaned over him again, practically laying on top of Danny, and stuck his stupid head around the corner of the crate. Instantly the bad guys fired on them again and bullets ricocheted dangerously close. Metal ammo casings clattered to the concrete somewhere across the warehouse and rang out in the echoes. Danny cursed under his breath. Steve scrambled back to his original spot.

“Okay, not H&K. UZI’s. Absolutely,” Steve said.

Trying not to roll his eyes, Danny shook his head slightly and held his tongue.

At this point Danny was pretty sure that no matter what the hostiles were using, he and his partner were screwed. Come on, five fully-auto sub-machine guns against a couple Smith & Wesson .9 mils? What were their odds?

Steve quickly snaked an arm out, snatched a random piece of blown up pineapple from the nearby crate and stuffed it into his mouth.

Danny sighed.

Where the hell were Chin and Kono?

Originally there had been a purpose for coming into this warehouse, and a gunfight wasn’t it, otherwise they would have brought better firepower. There had been a real reason for voluntarily placing themselves in this situation. Collect intel from a shady source about a recent kidnapping; that was it. But it had turned into this disaster.

That seemed to be the way crime operated in Hawaii. People got kidnapped and held hostage a lot around here. It wasn’t like the mob back in Jersey, where he knew who the bad guys were and where they operated. Here it was just random psychos nabbing innocent people and holding guns on them for money or political ransom. He’d yet to find any rhyme or reason to any of it.

Sometimes Danny really missed the mob.

His phone vibrated in his pant pocket. Thank God he’d actually set it on vibrate before coming in here. It was probably Rachel calling to remind him she had some spa/facial/massage/crap going on this afternoon and so he would need to go pick Gracie up from school. That would be fine with him. He wanted to try out that pizza place Steve mentioned, minus the pineapples of course. Gracie would love some pizza. Bonus points for him if he could ruin her appetite for dinner with Rachel and Step-Stan.

A cramp in his leg and shooting pain from his knee forced his brain back to the present.

Steve nudged him and nodded to the opposite side of the warehouse, where a door lay wide open, sunlight bouncing off the metal and illuminating the floor. But it was yards away and no way the bad guys didn’t have it covered.

“What? The door? You want to just make a run for it, Thelma and Louise style? Maybe we could take some pineapples out with us?” Danny hissed under his breath.

Steve made a shrugging gesture which could have meant anything at all.

“What does that mean?” Danny asked. “What the fuck does that even mean? Are you crazy? They’ll have it covered in cross-fire, we’ll never make it.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Steve whispered back, pressing into him, his body heat burning through Danny’s dress shirt; and his breath warm against his ear. “Cover me, Danno.”

Damn him.

Danny was good with a gun. He knew that. He could outshoot everyone back when he was in the academy; he could put a hole in a quarter from thirty yards away in the blink of a second. He was fast and he was good. But this wasn’t what he was accustomed to. This was some kind of militant warfare in the small space of a Hawaiian warehouse. He couldn’t defend himself and Steve with a standard police issue firearm. He could feel the shower of bullets flying too close as they dived in the general direction of the open door. He slid himself across the floor, helped along by pineapple juice, all the while shooting his .9 mil someplace in the area of where the machine guns were firing off.

His mind flashed on The Matrix and the way the bullets seemed slow motion, but really it was just that the main characters were so much faster. Then he wondered if The Matrix would be the last thought he’d have as he blindly followed Steve across the floor and bullets whizzed millimeters from his head.

It wasn’t anything like speed or talent with a gun that kept him alive, he thought, as he smashed himself against the back wall behind a line of metal shelving with Steve; it was just some pure, stupid chance.

As his pulse raced he took inventory of his body; two arms, two legs, fingers, head, everything still there. Abruptly the cacophony of gunfire ended and they all fell back into silence as acrid gun smoke lay heavy in the dusty air. Danny tried to catch his breath and swallow his heart back down out of his throat.

The only thing keeping him from puking from the adrenaline rush was the site of Steve pressed close against him in the small space; a smirk on his stupid, handsome, face.

“I hate you,” Danny whispered.

“No you don’t,” Steve answered, his voice low and ridiculously sincere, considering the situation. They held eye contact for long seconds. There was something else being said. It wasn’t just the usual back and forth nonsense they shared. He tried to swallow his heart back down again. Why did Steve always choose these insane moments to do this crap with him? It offered little to no opportunity to call him on it.

The bullets started screaming through the air again, pinging loudly against the metal shelving and slamming into the concrete less than a foot away.

“Fuck!” Danny snarled, pushing them both more firmly into the corner wall behind the shelving. Steve sort of hissed but didn’t object otherwise to the close contact. “Now what, Thelma, huh?” Danny asked, trying to keep it to a whisper; like the sons of bitches didn’t already know their location.

Steve’s eyes darted around. True, they were closer to the door, but not by much. And now their cover was less.

Just when Danny thought Steve was about to make the next insane move known, the shelves before them wobbled. Movement caught his eye and Danny instinctively aimed and shot three rounds. A man croaked some indiscernible words and the shelves weaved dangerously towards them before settling back into place. The unmistakable thud of a body fell to the concrete on the other side; a hand flopped out and blood began to pool and run in a river towards them.

Danny’s brain flashed on the pineapple river at their last location. Yeah, pineapples would never be on the menu again.

Steve sort of crawled, climbed, then just lay on top of him.

“Tell me something,” Danny huffed as the breath was pushed out of him, “when did you and I get so familiar with each other?”

Steve didn’t answer. He wrapped a hand around the dead guy’s wrist, checking for a pulse. He pulled the body a little closer and claimed the discarded weapon. Danny felt a pang of jealousy that he hadn’t nabbed it first.

The dead guy’s eyes were horrifyingly open and Danny tried not to look at them. Instead he watched Steve make quick inventory of the weapon; a fully loaded Beretta M12.

Danny smirked. Steve looked slightly exasperated. “Okay, you win,” he whispered.

“Yeah? What I win?” Danny asked, but Steve didn’t answer. He was scanning the warehouse again, holding the Beretta close to him.

There was a wedding ring on the dead guy’s lifeless hand. Danny forgot the weapon.

Steve jabbed at him and pointed up towards the lofts where they knew there were at least another two men. Who knew if the two behind the lift thing-a-ma-jig were still in their places.

Steve was feeling over the dead body again, coming up with a familiar object. Well… probably more familiar to Steve.

“Grenade?” Danny mouthed. Steve grinned.

The man was certifiable. _He wouldn’t actually set that thing off in here would he? My God, imagine the pineapple,_ Danny thought to himself.

Steve held the grenade and motioned to the upper loft area, which was just around the other side of the wall and several yards away. Danny shook his head. “Don’t you dare!” He hissed between his teeth, trying to get his vehemence across in a whisper. “We’re too close range; the shrapnel!”

Steve gave him the unintelligible shrug accompanied by the blank look.

“I hate you,” Danny repeated in a voice just a little less than whisper. He got a real, honest to goodness Steve McGarrett smile in return and firmly ignored the spread of warmth buoying up in his chest. It was probably just his body preparing for another rush of adrenaline. “We’re going to have a talk when this is done,” Danny promised. He meant about the whole grenade thing and Steve’s propensity for lunging towards death without a thought.

Steve sort of looked serious and then distant. He shoved the newly acquired M12 at him, which forced Danny to quickly holster his .9 mil at his side.

“Stay low and cover me,” Steve breathed against Danny’s ear. Danny had an urge to grab onto him and hold him there. Separating seemed like a death wish right now, but he was gone in an instant, giving Danny little time to slide onto his belly and worm around the shelving. He aimed towards the lofts and fired a spray of bullets from left to right as Steve did God knew what.

The kidnappers returned his gunfire with a vengeance. Feeling dangerously vulnerable, laying there on the floor with nothing and no one to cover him, Danny rolled to the left, towards the door and more pineapple crates.

 _Never again,_ he thought to himself. Never again would he let Steve drag him into this much danger without a real plan. No matter how charming, no matter how enigmatic he was. Danny would not lose his life for this man.

The Beretta ran out of ammo much more quickly than he’d planned and he tossed it aside, reaching back for his trusted handgun. But he didn’t need it again just yet because the shower of bullets stopped abruptly.

He braced himself for the loud explosion that must surely come after a grenade is thrown, long seconds passed and it never came. Someone was groaning, edging on hysterical. Danny strained to hear, because for just a millisecond it seemed it could have been Steve, and in that case every muscle within him was coiled to react. But it couldn’t be Steve; he wouldn’t plead like that, he would just let the pain happen and take it silently. No, that was one of the bad guys.

Suddenly, Steve’s voice, strong and determined, filled the warehouse. “Tell us where you’re keeping the Senator’s wife and I’ll let him go.”

It was to the right of Danny’s position, and he turned his head that way, trying to get a glimpse of his partner in the haze of smoke and splintered crates, but he wasn’t visible.

There was no response. Apparently they didn’t care that their cohort was about to be tortured to death by some wack job ex-SEAL guy. Foreign words were exchanged among the bad guys but none of it was information Steve had requested. Then the poor bastard at Steve’s mercy gave a strangled scream which quickly turned into a gurgle and then nothing but silence.

Danny swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and ritually crossed himself without thinking.

Too soon to react, someone pushed some crates down from the loft, one after another. Danny watched them fall in what felt like horrifyingly slow motion; vaguely aware that Steve was yelling his name. The crates landed with a giant, splintering crash; much too close to his position. Pineapples splattered across the cement around him. He cursed loudly, unable to hold it in, and aimed his weapon towards the loft where he’d glimpsed movement.

Too late again, because in the same moment he saw the grenade fly through the air and land someplace up there in the loft with what was left of the bad guys. He had an irrational fear that they would catch it and throw it back down before it detonated, but that was just something you saw in movies, right?

“Danny! Cover!” Steve yelled.

He really didn’t need the instruction, as he was already curled against a crate, his head instinctively buried under his arms; as if that would protect him.

The entire warehouse shook with the energy of the explosion and the loft collapsed down in a scream of torn metal and hundreds of tons of crates and equipment. For what must have been a full minute, but felt more like a whole week, the air was full of fragments of debris and Danny’s ears rang in the silence of post explosion shock.

The shock melted away, quickly replaced with fury. He was pissed that Steve’s shoot first, ask later, mind-set had landed them in this situation at all. Pissed that he continued to trust this guy with his life, mission after mission. Why did he do this? Why was this his life now?

He lay on the floor and pressed a burning cheek to the cool cement, trying to talk himself down from the anger, because they still had to get out of this place and anger wasn’t going to help.

They would get out of this alive. He had to keep that at the front of everything else, because Gracie had her first class play tomorrow night, and he wasn’t going to miss it. She was going to be a pirate; a pink one. And he hadn’t spent three hours in rush hour traffic with her last week, trying to find the perfect pink pirate hat, just so he could be shot full of led and bleed out in a puddle of pineapple juice.

“Hey,” Steve’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Danny?”

“Yeah, fine. Clear. Whatever,” he mumbled, daring to lift his head from the floor. Particles of dust still swirled in the smoky air; he could taste them in his mouth. Steve was kneeling over him, face chalky and sweaty with rivulets of blood along the line of his cheek.

“You look like crap,” Danny observed.

“Thanks. You look nice too.” Steve glanced around, squinting slightly. “We got ‘em all.” He said.

“Great. That’s just great for you. I’m happy,” Danny muttered, and exhaustion overwhelmed him. There was the warmth of Steve’s hand on his back and something else; wetness soaking into his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to get home, shower and have a beer, or two, or five. As he moved to lift himself pain spilled deep into his gut and he fell back to the floor.

“Don’t move, Danno.” Steve sounded nervous, which was unnerving in and of itself. “You were hit.”

“Yeah. Ya think?”

“It’s okay, I can hear backup coming,” Steve said. He sounded distant. “Danny?”

The last coherent thought Danny remembered, was that Steve damn well better be there for Gracie’s play, and every future play, every school function, all the sick-days with runny noses and puking, all the birthday parties, parent/teacher meetings, sleepovers, whatever. That’s probably what it was going to take to make it sink into his thick, thrill-seeking scull how shooting first and thinking later was so very, very reckless.

When Danny opened his eyes again it was because there was a loud siren coming from somewhere. Steve’s pale face leaned over him and stated the obvious. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Danny tried to give him a smile so he’d relax. After all, how many times had he been in ambulances on the way to hospitals in his lifetime so far? He was good at this; it was easy. The smile must not have come across the way he’d intended, because Steve looked more concerned.

A strong hand touched his forehead and then slid over his hair. “You’ll be fine, Danno.”

Steve was visibly anxious and that was a rare thing to witness. He fixed this moment in his memory.

….  
Pain medication was a wonderful thing. Opening his eyes Danny found himself in a bright hospital room. An IV dripped clear fluid into his veins. He dared to turn his head on the pillow, blinked a few times, then cleared his throat.

Grace sat up from her perch next to Steve on one of the couches in the room. Couches in a hospital room?

“Daddy!” She launched herself towards him and Danny tensed to prepare for her landing on him, but Steve put a hand out and held her back.

“Careful. He’s got stitches, remember.”

She relaxed slightly, and advanced more slowly on him. She wrapped gentle arms around his torso.

“Monkey.” It came out in a sort of rasp and he had to clear his throat again. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and patted her back. She smelled like baby shampoo and everything sweet in the world.

“I was worried!” She chastised, leaning back, eyes huge and sincere with concern.

“I know. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“My play is tonight, but don’t worry. Steve said he would go for you and get lots of pictures.”

Danno glanced at Steve, standing beside the couch looking almost sheepish. He smiled at Gracie and squeezed her arm. “That’s great, Monkey. I want a full re-enactment when it’s done.”

“I have to go tell mommy you’re awake. I promised I’d call her.” She kissed his cheek and slid away and out the door, his cell phone in her small hands.

“I’m sure she’s real concerned,” Danny muttered after she left.

One of the machines he was hooked up to made a soft repetitive beep in the quiet. Steve didn’t move from his spot. Danny watched him stuff his hands in his pockets and shift from one foot to the other. His shirt collar was wrong; he looked wrinkled and unshaven. A small bandage lay over what must have been some stitches on his left temple. Danny had an urge to reach out and touch him but he was too far across the room.

“Danny,” Steve broke the silence, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there without cover. We should have stuck together.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, too drugged on painkillers to be as angry as he wanted to be at that moment. Fragments of things he wanted to lecture Steve about floated around his brain, but none of them would settle into something that he could verbalize.

Steve’s eyes fixed on him and he moved forward, closing the distance to the bed. “Look, I’ll get video of her in the play and everything. You can take a few weeks off when you get out of here and just, you know, relax or whatever.”

“Yeah, I can.” He lifted his head from the pillow and looked around the room more. It was pretty big and very nicely furnished for a hospital room. “Where am I?”

“The governor got you into one of the better private rooms,” Steve explained.

“Oh. How…” His brain tried to grasp an appropriate word. “Quaint.”

Steve sat on the edge of the bed and laughed. The sound was warm and sweet. Danny smiled like a dope.

“Those are some good pain meds, huh, partner?”

“I guess so.” The machine continued to beep softly; Grace’s muffled, excited voice floated just outside the room; and the rattle of a cart being rolled down the hallway filtered in.

Steve’s eyes were the oddest color; a greenish, grayish, hazel, depending on the light. “I still hate you,” Danny whispered.

Steve sort of tilted his head, a faint grin on his lips. “No you don’t.”

/end


End file.
